Emma watched with morbid fascination as the newcomer's right hand came around her attacker's chest, to drive what appeared to be a sharp wooden stake through his heart.
She was expecting blood, and lots of it.
She wasn't expecting her attacker to explode into a shower of dust that covered both her, and her rescuer.
"Ugh. I hate when they do that," he moaned, aggressively beating the dirt from his leather jacket.
"W… wh… what the hell was that?" she asked, pointing at the small pile of dust that had formed between the two of them.
"You really are untrained, aren't you?" he questioned, as he ran a rough hand through his hair, to shake out the dirt. "Do you even know about your calling? Your destiny?"
"What the fuck does destiny have to do with some creep exploding into dust?" Emma's voice was verging on hysterical now. Her brain couldn't seem to comprehend everything that had just happened to her.
"How about we get out of this alley, and then we can talk?"
"How about you answer my fucking questions?" she demanded. "What the hell just happened?"
The stranger looked her over from top to bottom, before letting out a huff of frustration. "Fine. You wanna do this here? He was a vampire. You are a vampire Slayer. Happy now?"
Emma stared in disbelief for the longest of moments, before she let a slightly manic laugh escape her lips.
"Vampire?" she finally cried. "Are you out of your mind? And what the hell is a slayer? That's what he called me too. Are you working together? Is this some kind of elaborate prank on the new girl?"
"It's not a prank, Emma Swan. This is your destiny."
"How do you know my name?" she asked, as her tone hardened. "I never told you that. What the hell is wrong with you people? Don't you know that my dad's the sheriff of this town?"
"Look I know how this sounds, okay? I know it's insane. And that it goes against everything you've ever believed before. But you have to believe me."
"Why? Why should I believe you?" she demanded.
Her rescuer deflated a little before finally admitting, "Because if you don't, people like him are gonna keep coming for you, Swan. And there are much worse beings out there than the vampire I just staked."
Emma wasn't sure why, but her instincts were telling her that she could trust this strange man. She believed every single word of his story, even though she was trying her best not.
"Show me?" she asked. "Show me more. Prove to me that this is all real."
"Follow me."
"A cemetery?" she shrieked, looking at the headstones that were dotted periodically around the grounds. "Great. I'm standing in the middle of a cemetery, in the middle of the night, with someone trying to convince me vampires are real. This is how I die."
"I have no intentions of letting you die tonight, Swan. That would defeat the purpose of waking you up to your calling."
"How exactly is it that you know my name, and I don't know yours?" she asked, as she made her way over to one of the benches at the side of the ground, to take a seat. The wood was cold and damp, even through the thickness of her jeans, but her legs were still shaking from the earlier attack. Emma knew that she needed to sit down, before she fell down.
"Slayers are well known. When Mulan was killed, it didn't take long for word to get around. Vampires are not exactly known for their modesty. And bagging a slayer, well… that gives you legendary status amongst the undead. I got lucky. Normally all that's known about a potential slayer is that they're female, and young. I'm sure your watcher will give you the official spiel. But long story short? I met a guy. A guy who was trying to convince me that I could change. That I could be someone better than I was. He told me about you."
"What's a watcher?" Emma asked curiously.
"For every slayer, there's a watcher. Their job is to train and guide you. To keep you alive for as long as they possibly can."
"So… are you my watcher?" she wondered.
"Oh God no. Do I look like one of those stuffy old Brits? I'm just someone who wants to help."
Emma wanted to point out that he had a British accent. But at that moment there was an almighty crack, before an arm shot out of the ground of the freshest grave in the cemetery.
"What the hell?" she cried, sliding back on the bench to get as far away from it as she possibly could.
"Do you wanna take this one? The instincts are there. I saw you punch that other vamp in the alley."
"Of course I don't wanna take it. It's gonna kill me," she exclaimed.
Her rescuer looked down at the name on the headstone, before correcting Emma's assumption. "She. And I won't let her kill you. You've gotta learn sometime, Swan. The freshly turned vamps are the best to practice on. Their skills are non-existent, and they're weaker than their sires. Here."
Emma caught the stake he tossed her way with surprising ease, before reluctantly pulling herself to her feet.
She watched as the arm waved frantically for a moment, before there was another crack, and its twin shot out of the ground.
"Jesus, a guy's gonna go grey waiting for this," he mumbled, before reaching down to yank the newly born vampire from her grave.
"What the hell are you doing?" Emma yelled at him, her eyes widening in shock.
"How are you gonna practice your skills if she can't even escape her own coffin?" he asked, shooting a withering look at the young and untrained slayer.
The newly transformed vampire looked confused as she turned from Emma, to the strange man sat on her headstone, and then back again.
"Don't look at me," he replied, holding his hands up in submission. "She tastes much better than I ever would."
The vampire snarled at the thought of fresh blood, before turning and charging in Emma's direction.
She didn't have time to yell at the stranger for being such an ass. Instead, Emma widened her stance and planted her feet, bracing herself for the attack.
"I don't know what to do," she called out, as fear began clouding her face.
"Yes you do," he replied. "Trust your instincts, Emma. You were born to do this. Don't overthink it. Just do what comes naturally."
Emma didn't have the time to overthink things. The vampire was reaching for her before her rescuer had finished speaking. So, she let her instincts kick in. After all, they'd helped to keep her alive earlier that evening, in the alley.
When the vampire's hand clamped down on her shoulder, Emma reached for it, gripping her wrist tightly. She spun out from underneath the attack and used the momentum to bring her knee up, and into the vampire's stomach.
The female doubled over in pain, but recovered quickly. She swept Emma's legs out from underneath her until the slayer was flat on her back, with the stake rolling out of her hand.
"A little help?" Emma called out, frantically reaching for where she thought her weapon should be. The vampire didn't hesitate to drop down on top of her, essentially pinning her in place.
"You're doing fine," her rescuer called back. He was still sat on top of the un-dead's headstone, swinging his legs like he didn't have a care in the world.
Emma gave up on her search for the wooden stake when the vampire's jaws were in touching distance, and instead, brought both of her arms together to slam the heels of her hands into the snarling face.
The vampire reared back for a brief second.
But it wasn't long enough for Emma to find her stake.
The next thing she felt was a pair of ice-cold hands closing around her throat, before they began to squeeze.
"Okay… I think that's enough for tonight's lesson," her rescuer called out. Emma blinked and he was suddenly stood over the two of them.
She just had enough time to turn her head as he brought the stake down and through the vampire's heart. There was a moment of absolute silence, where the vampire's eyes widened in shock, before she finally disintegrated into a shower of dust that rained down over Emma.
Her rescuer tumbled forward with the momentum of his strike, as Emma shook her head to try and clear her hair of the dead-dust that was covering it. She hadn't realized just how close he was, until she turned back to feel his cool breath caressing her face.
For a moment the two of them were frozen. Emma was still laying on her back, covered in dirt and dust, with her chest heaving from the exertion of the fight. And he was straddling her thighs, with his arms braced either side of her head, as he stared down at her lips.
When she finally pulled herself together, Emma gave him a rough shove to get him off her, before pushing herself up to her feet.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"I'm not that kind of girl," she snapped back at him. "So… if that's what you're here for, you're barking up the wrong tree."
"It's not," he assured her. "I just…. I thought that maybe we could be friends?"
"Friends tend to tell each other their names," Emma threw back at him.
He was silent for a moment, clearly contemplating just how much to tell her, before he eventually settled on one word. "Hook."
"Come again?"
"My name," he replied. "It's Hook."
"Who the hell calls their kid Hook?" she asked. Emma was slightly outraged at the mere thought of some woman giving birth to a beautiful little boy, with bright blue eyes, and then deciding that the name Hook would be appropriate for him.
"It's a nickname," he admitted with a wry chuckle. "I've been known as Hook for far longer than I was known by my given name."
"And just what is your given name?"
"Killian," he answered softly. "My name's Killian."
Emma took a moment to brush herself down, before turning her attention back to the bench she'd been sat on, and her bag that lay discarded at the foot of it.
"Okay," she finally replied. "Well, thanks for… all of this. But I'm pretty sure you have the wrong girl, Killian. And I'm not exactly in the market for new friends so…. See ya."
She was already walking away before he had any time to process what she had just said. Thankfully, his brain kicked in quick enough to send him jogging after her.
"Wait," he pleaded, tugging on her elbow.
Emma span round quickly and wrenched her arm free from his grasp.
Killian took a small step back and raised his hands once more in surrender. "After everything you've seen tonight, you're just gonna walk away?" he demanded.
She scanned their surroundings for a moment, taking in the eerie silence of the cemetery, and the darkness of the night, before finally turning back to face him. "Yeah," she said, nodding her head for added emphasis.
Killian looked like he wanted to roll his eyes at her, but stopped himself before he could. Emma planted her hands on her hips, as she gave him a moment to say something else.
When he didn't, she turned around to leave once more.
"Perhaps you're right," he called after her. "Maybe you're not the chosen one. Maybe it's some other seventeen-year-old girl who just moved to town. I mean…" he paused for a moment and Emma found herself stopping, waiting to hear what else he was going to say. She had a feeling that whatever it was, she wasn't going to like.
"It's not like you've been having the dreams, right?"
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